Power lost
by Savasta 101
Summary: What happens when the power the Dark Lord knew not was gone, ripped away from Harry Potter after a lifetime of maltreatment at the hands of her relatives. Possessed by Voldemort, as he returns to Hogwarts - the one place he could call home - in the last body anyone would suspect.


Tears dropped down Harry's cheeks, and she angrily wiped them away - hiding the evidence of her brief moment of weakness, where she'd allowed herself to wish for the love Dudley was lavished with. For anything to fill up the aching pain that came with being truly alone. And that simple fact hurt more than any punch thrown by her cousin or his gang: that the cruel words flung at her had justification, and she really was a freak, for why else would nobody see her as anything more than a burden.

The pain was vast, and molten hot, searing her from the inside out while Harry was struck with a desperate desire to not feel - not if it felt like this. Every fibre of her being, united in the same goal, of sealing away emotion and something stirred in response. A cool wave of power rushed through her veins, eager to fulfil its mistress's wish, bringing into being her desires as it focused itself internally.

Craggy mountains rose from the barren ground of her mindscape, and were soon joined by thick swathes of forest, littered with the leering shadows of her nightmares. Monsters under the bed, granted sentience - and the singular need to protect their mistress. The mist that wafted through the trees took form, and solidified, into towering wall of jagged rock and metal that reached impossibly high; casting a dark shadow in which the power rested, peacefully, content to have completed its mistress' wish.

And corralled into the depths of the great mountain, cramped along the edge of a narrow shaft, were sluggishly bobbing orbs of memory: once cast in colour, for the emotions felt, and now dimmed to a sickly grey: clouded by the apathy forced upon them, that shifted Harry's perception. She no longer felt the stabbing pain, or the rare moments of happiness she so desperately clung to. Harry no longer felt any emotion at all. Next to the orbs, a malformed child - the twisted piece of Voldemort's soul, shoved to the very depths of Harry's being - stirred, no longer held at bay by the power of love the Dark Lord knew not.

In the depths of the Department of Mysteries, the prophecy that was once irrevocably tied to Harry, cracked - glass shards falling in a deadly swoop. Fate no longer twined the two souls, and the plaque beneath the prophecy clouded until the writing upon it was indiscernible. A shade in the Forests of Albania jerked, at a sharp tug from its soul shard, and followed the lure that curiosity had always provided.

The shade found itself on a small street, the dim light of lamp posts cutting through the darkness, to illuminate the depressingly muggle neighbourhood from which the wards around Number four shined like a beacon, however weak the magic that powered them. Ancient wards, tied to Harry, and left to decay when not fed with the love expected from family.

The wards dismissed the shade as no threat; not when its magic was identical to that of the parasite twined so closely to Harry, and granted the wrath entry. It drifted to the only other source of magic like a moth to flame, passing through the cupboard door with ease - intent on consuming the small ball of light, only to first be drawn to its own soul shard; dismissively destroying the only other competitor with claim to the magic before it.

Harry recoiled sharply, at the sudden agony that lit every atom on fire, as she futilely battled against the being that felt innately wrong, a twisted creature never meant to have been brought into being. But it was cunning, and seemingly tireless, armed with decades of experience and sheer desperation. Harry's connection to her magic waned, and she couldn't help the raw scream that tore at her throat as it was brutally ripped from her. And then the wrath attacked again, this time aiming to destroy her essence, and claim her body's empty shell for itself.

Harry was raised through cruel words and slaps, her lack of self worth hammered in since she could understand the words that were spat at her. Taught to accept punishment, and defeat - when fighting against it only brought more pain. And so she surrendered, to the invading being, as her every self was ripped to shreds. A moment later eyes again opened. They gleamed red.


End file.
